


never let you walk alone

by groundopenwide



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, References to Depression, this is very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27744403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groundopenwide/pseuds/groundopenwide
Summary: There are a lot of reasons Kyle loves living with Dan.
Relationships: Kyle Simmons/Dan Smith
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	never let you walk alone

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally based on a prompt i found on tumblr: _yes you look like a movie star with your tinsel boa but i think it suits me better so ha._ it...went a direction i did not anticipate it going, but i hope y'all enjoy nonetheless!
> 
> and big thanks to [heartbreakordeath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbreakordeath/pseuds/heartbreakordeath) for reassuring me this was postable <3
> 
> title is from the song "i was in heaven" by chelsea cutler.

There are a lot of reasons Kyle loves living with Dan.

He gets to hear Dan’s stupidly brilliant songs before everyone else. Sometimes (quite often, actually), he wakes in the middle of the night to find the bed cold and empty beside him, but it’s alright, because he can hear the soft press of piano keys through the wall. Dan’s voice sings him right back to sleep each time. It’s like his own personal lullaby. 

Living with Dan means films—loads of them. David Lynch and Christopher Nolan and Wes Anderson and on and on down the list. They have a tower of DVDs in the living room, a _literal_ tower, one of those tall, thin shelves that nearly reaches Dan’s shoulders. It’s a good thing Kyle already liked films before they met, otherwise he’d have been quite caught off guard by the amount of watching (as opposed to snogging) Dan does during films (although there’s plenty of snogging, too.)

Living with Dan is bleach stains on the rug in the loo from all the times he’s touched up the blonde at his roots. It’s tea at midnight when neither of them can sleep and a little family of succulents on the windowsill, the result of Kyle’s recent obsession with horticulture and a complement to the lime-green walls of Dan’s little in-house studio. It’s never knowing which NASA jumper belongs to who because they both wear them interchangeably. It’s Kyle fawning over the cats up for adoption on the local shelter’s website and Dan smiling as he explains, for the millionth time, that it’d be cruel to get a pet when they’d rarely be around to keep it company.

(“Look at Charlie—he’s got Luna!”

“Charlie’s also got a wife who’s home most of the year.”

“Well, maybe I should take a page from his book and get myself a wife, then.”

“Good luck with that.”)

Living with Dan is touching. A lot of it. When they’re away on tour, they tend to keep things reserved—Dan’s never liked attention, Woody and Will and Charlie and everyone else have never particularly enjoyed being subjected to their PDA, and Kyle, well, he’s never liked making people unhappy, so the arrangement works for all parties involved. 

Besides, it ends up being worth it in the long run. It’s like Dan saves up all his affection during those long, long months and then it all comes pouring out the moment they’re tucked safely behind closed doors. His chin hooked over Kyle’s shoulder so he can watch, still half-asleep, as Kyle butters their toast in the morning; his hand on Kyle’s waist as he reaches past with his other hand to grab the toothpaste; his nose tucked against Kyle’s neck after he’s reached out for a hug and made a home for himself against Kyle’s chest.

Most of the time, living with Dan is easy—just like every other part of their relationship has been. 

But not always. 

Dan would much rather go sulk at his piano than talk to Kyle about anything of substance when he’s frustrated. He’s terribly addicted to his phone. He forgets to rinse out the sink after he does the washing up and leaves his socks in the most random places. He gets so absorbed in his work that he forgets to come up for air sometimes, and Kyle is left alone at their kitchen table, eating the spaghetti dinner he’s prepared for two.

Then there are days when Dan doesn’t get out of bed. _Can’t_ get out of bed. 

Those days are the hardest.

They’re supposed to decorate the Christmas tree today. They went to the lot yesterday to pick it up and everything. It’s propped up in the living room, right in front of the big bay window where it always goes, while the storage boxes of ornaments wait forgotten in the corner. Kyle managed to get the lights on it by himself (one of the only perks of being a giraffe-sized human), but now it’s nearing 6 PM and he’s got the tinsel garland wrapped around his neck like a scarf from when he was dancing around to Wham’s _Last Christmas_ earlier to distract himself from the fact that Dan hasn’t emerged from their bedroom all day.

When he peeks in to check, Dan is curled up on the mattress with the comforter drawn tight over his shoulders. His back is to the door, so Kyle walks around to the other side of the bed and crouches down until his face is level with where Dan’s head lies on the pillow.

“Hey,” he says.

Dan opens his eyes but otherwise doesn’t move. Kyle offers him a little smile.

“If I get you some water, will you drink it?”

A near-imperceptible nod. The comforter has slipped off Dan’s shoulder a bit, so Kyle reaches out to pull it back up. 

“The tree’s looking good. I got the lights on it. Saving the ornaments for you, though, whenever you’re ready.”

Dan doesn’t say anything, but Kyle can see the gratitude in his eyes. He’s gotten quite good at reading Dan over the years. He leaves to fetch the glass of water he’s promised, and when he returns, Dan is sitting up with the blankets pulled around his shoulders like a cape. Kyle takes a seat on the edge of the bed beside him and passes over the glass, which Dan chugs in the span of a few seconds.

“Sorry,” Dan says afterwards. His voice is a little hoarse from disuse.

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

Dan shrugs, but his face is pinched tight with guilt. Kyle’s chest twinges. Sure, maybe he was a bit pissed off earlier when he was sitting on the floor of their living room untangling lights all by himself, but it’s not Dan’s fault he gets this way. He can’t control it. And what’s the use in being mad about something they can’t control? 

Kyle scoots closer and puts a hand on Dan’s knee, rubbing gently. Some of the tension drains from Dan’s face. He shifts into Kyle’s side, opening up his blanket cape to let Kyle inside so that they’re wrapped up together. Kyle’s still got the tinsel garland around his neck. He picks up one end of it and wiggles it in Dan’s face.

“What do you think of my scarf?”

“New stage look, definitely.”

Kyle pulls off the garland and hooks it around Dan’s neck instead, looping it so that it looks like a proper tinsel boa. Dan blinks at him, unamused. He looks completely ridiculous, with the bags under his eyes and the blanket tucked over his shoulders and the tinsel hanging out the top of it, but there’s also a tiny, tiny smile twitching at his mouth. 

“Suits you better,” Kyle declares.

The bad days—they’re all worth it for moments like these, when Kyle manages to shine a torch into the darkness for the fewest of seconds. He can’t fix things, of course he can’t—that’s not how this works, Dan doesn’t _need_ fixing—but at least he can be here. He can pull Dan back to reality and take care of him when he forgets to take care of himself and put a smile on his face and love him the way he deserves to be loved (even if doesn’t believe he deserves it).

Kyle takes hold of the edges of the tinsel garland and pulls Dan towards him. Dan’s lips are chapped and his overgrown stubble scratches Kyle’s chin when they kiss, but it doesn’t matter, because it’s _Dan._ It’s always been Dan.

When they separate, Dan drops his head to Kyle’s shoulder and stays there, curled into a little half-ball against his side. 

“We can do the tree tomorrow,” he says. “Promise.”

“Or the next day.” Kyle wraps an arm around his back and pulls the blanket tighter around them, their own little cocoon against the world. “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be here.”


End file.
